


The Most Lamentable Tragedie of Friar Laurence (as Translated from the Original Gobbledygook)

by MiraMira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Arguing, Crack, Crossover, Drama, Gen, Iambic Pentameter, Non-Canonical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have not experienced Shakespeare until you have read him in the original Goblin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Lamentable Tragedie of Friar Laurence (as Translated from the Original Gobbledygook)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Hogwarts_Elite contest. Any line that sounds about a hundred times better than the rest (namely both Romeo and Juliet's first lines, and of course the final couplet) belongs entirely to the Bard.

_Act V, Scene III. ROMEO stands over JULIET’s still form, preparing to poison himself._

ROMEO:  
Dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair?  
Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace!  
And lips, o you, the doors of breath, seal with  
A righteous kiss a dateless bargain to  
Engrossing death! Here’s to my love!

_FRIAR LAURENCE appears._

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
Hold, lad!

ROMEO:  
Good friar, what dost thou here? And how came’st thou  
So silently and sudden ‘pon this spot?

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
Was’t thou not visited some hours past  
By an owl with a note strapped to its leg?

ROMEO:  
An owl, yes, but no note did I see.  
My man Balthazar shot it down for sport.

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
Then dids’t thou not behold a silver  
Dog, which in my voice did speak to thee  
And tell thee the fair Juliet yet lived?

ROMEO:  
I saw, but in my grief, I took it for  
A madman’s fancy. Though, in truth, I couldst  
Not fathom why it bore a form so strange.

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
I see then that my errand is well-timed  
And I must tell thee all. Romeo, I  
Am no mere friar, but a wizard. Not  
The Devil’s servant, as the fearful claim,  
But one who through my learning and my spells  
And other arts doth strive to do men good.  
‘Twas by those arts, at Juliet’s request,  
I placed her in the state which you behold.  
A potion, called the Draught of Living Death,  
Maintains her in this cold and breathless sleep.  
But sleep alone it is, meant to forestall  
Her parents’ desire she and Paris wed.  
Here in my hand I hold the antidote,  
And with thee here, once revived, she may flee  
To Mantua, and start her life anew.

ROMEO:  
The Devil’s servant? No! If this be true  
Thou art the saint who brought me from despair  
To happiness I had considered lost.  
Give me the vial. I will have her drink.

_He presses it to JULIET’s lips. Her eyes open, and she rises._

JULIET:  
I do remember well where I should be,  
And there I am. And here’s my Romeo!

ROMEO:  
Ay, love, and at thy side I shall remain.  
Now, let’s away.

JULIET:  
A moment more, I beg.  
The potion’s power still heavy on me weighs.

ROMEO:  
Alas, dear heart, ‘tis time we do not have.  
In my entrance, I fear I came upon  
Thy betrothed, come to pay his last respects.  
He, thinking me a vandal, did give charge  
And I, in provocation, did him slay.  
He will be missed ere long. We must needs go.

JULIET:  
What, Paris dead now? True, I did not wish  
To wed him, but to meet so harsh an end  
For love of me? And so soon after  
Tybalt, who did hold me dear as well.  
Tell me, my love, what others I esteem  
Should I fear will next fall before thy blade?  
My nurse? My parents? The good friar here?

ROMEO:  
My blade is not half so sharp as thy words,  
Nor the poison which I brought to join in  
What I believed to be eternal sleep  
So bitter. ‘Swounds, I’ll wager Rosaline  
Would ne’er have spoken to me with such spite.

JULIET:  
Thou complain’st of wounds, yet stab my heart? Oh,  
Accursed be the day I wed thee! Nay,  
The day I first loved thee, though why or how  
I marvel, for that tenderness seems fled.

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
Enough! This bickering does no one good.

ROMEO:  
Marvels, aye, I’ll wager that’s the cause.  
True love could never change so soon to hate.  
And if death can be feigned, then why not love?

JULIET  
What mean’st thou?

ROMEO:  
Play not the fool with me.  
Thou hast, with this fell sorcerer, devised  
A plot: bewitched me, made me forswear home  
And family to win false smiles from thee.

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
I like not the direction of these thoughts.

JULIET:  
He was thy friend, ere he was ever mine.  
And have I not lost more? Thou, at least, liv’st  
In the eyes of the world. I see now, ‘tis  
Thy guilt which bids thee blame me for thy crime.  
Well, I’ll none of it. Get thee gone at once,  
And take thy vile magician, or I swear  
I’ll see thee both burned by the City Watch.

FRIAR LAURENCE:  
Art thou so sworn? Then verily, I go,  
But ere I do, I’d see thee reconciled  
Or, if blame must be laid, lay it with me  
Alone, who only wished thy happiness.

ROMEO:  
That blame thou shalt have, for here’s my sword.

JULIET:  
And here’s my dagger. Back to hell, thou fiend!

_They stab FRIAR LAURENCE, who falls to the ground, dead. Exeunt in opposite directions, still angered._

_FRIAR LAURENCE rises, now wearing the transparent visage and garb of the FAT FRIAR, to deliver the Epilogue._

FAT FRIAR:  
I tell this tale, young Hufflepuffs, to urge  
You temperance in all things. Do good, but  
Be wise in whom you place your confidence.  
And remember that a sudden passion may  
Fade swiftly as the snow in sun. Regret,  
Though – that may last a lifetime and beyond.  
For never was a story of more woe  
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.


End file.
